


noble steed

by colorfulmagic



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Father Son Bonding, Fluff, Gen, Hakoda (Avatar) is a Good Parent, Hurt/Comfort, Post War fic, Sokka (Avatar)-centric, Sokka getting the hugs he DESERVES
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-14
Updated: 2020-09-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:34:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26454229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colorfulmagic/pseuds/colorfulmagic
Summary: Sokka hates using his crutches. It’s a problem. Hakoda might have a way around it though.
Relationships: Hakoda & Sokka (Avatar)
Comments: 37
Kudos: 127





	noble steed

“Sokka?”

Sokka froze in place, then with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach he turned around. Dad looked back at him from across the ornate Fire Nation palace hall, arms crossed and frown tugging at the corners of his mouth. Sokka had wondered, in the years Dad had been gone, whether he had exaggerated in his child’s mind how solid and unshakable a presence Dad had. He hadn’t. 

“Dad,” Sokka said, wincing and trying to creep towards the door. “Nice seeing you here.”

“Where are your crutches?” His voice sounded displeased. Sokka tried again to move towards the door, but the movement jolted at his leg and he bit his cheek hard enough to taste copper. 

“Funny story,” Sokka said finally. “But Appa actually ate them. I tried fighting him for them, but when a two ton bison wants something—“ his leg was screaming in pain now. When he had decided to try to make the short trek to the palace grounds— and why was everything plural here? Grounds, rooms, even the baths couldn’t be just one— it had seemed doable without his crutches. Now he wasn't so sure. 

Dad sighed and moved over to him, crouching slightly in front of Sokka. It was a movement that brought to mind being small and tattling to his parents because Katara had pushed him into a snowdrift again, or had stolen his boomerang and wouldn’t give it back. 

“Sore arms?” Dad said, and Sokka jerked his head up. 

“How’d you know?”

“I always hated that part too. Bato had to force them under my arms, half the time.” He said it with a wry smile, mouth tilted up on one side.

“What happened?” Sokka asked, curious despite himself. 

“I was sailing,” Dad said, shrugging a little. “When I was your age, maybe a little older. They told me to pull the rudder left but the waves were loud and I misheard. Pulled right, the boat jerked sideways, and—“ he whistled and made a movement with his hand that Sokka took to mean he had fallen overboard. Sokka snorted before he could stop himself, clapping his hand over his mouth. 

“Yeah, laugh it up,” Dad said, but his eyes were warm on Sokka’s. The grin fell off his face a moment later as his gaze swept over Sokka, lingering on the cast wrapped around his knee. “You need to keep your weight off that leg, or it won’t heal.”

“I know,” Sokka said, irritated. He had heard the same lecture from Katara, Suki, and even Toph. Though that was less of a lecture and more her threatening to cause him bodily harm unless he used his crutches right then and there, followed by a punch to the arm. 

“Then you should know better than to walk around without them. Or at least ask for help.”

“I was doing fine.”

“Hm,” Dad said, eyes skeptical. Sokka tilted his chin up, straightening. The movement jolted his leg and exhaled slowly through the growing pain, shifting slightly in an attempt to alleviate it. This time Dad caught the motion, and Sokka cursed in his head. He waited in sullen silence for a lecture, maybe even yelling, but it never came. He dragged his eyes up to meet Dad’s, and instead of the anger he had expected to find there was only— worry. 

That, more than anything else, made the words come spilling out of his mouth before he could stop them. 

“I’m so sick of being stuck inside all the time,” Sokka said, jaw set. “No one will let me do anything, even though I know I can help. All I do is sit in bed and now I can’t even take a stupid walk through the stupid grounds—“ he cut off, running a frustrated hand through his tied back hair. He had learned, earlier this week, that soft soil and crutches did not mix well together. He was very grateful that no one had been around to see him yell frustratedly into the wind, or throw his crutches against the wall of the turtle duck pond. Not his proudest moment. 

Dad looked at him thoughtfully for a moment, then quicker than Sokka could protest he was being picked up, shifted around so he was on Dad‘s back. He yelped, digging his hands into Dad’s shirt. “What are you doing?” Sokka demanded. 

“You said you wanted to go on a walk, right? This is you, going on a walk.” He shifted Sokka up higher on his back and Sokka wrapped his arms around his neck instinctively. Dad walked at an easy pace, barely jostling him. Sokka could feel his ears burning, and he quickly looked around to make sure no one was watching him. The palace was empty though, everyone presumably at the negotiations. 

“Dad,” Sokka said quietly. “I’m not a kid.”

“Hm,” Dad said. “I know.” 

This was humiliating. Sokka was a warrior, he had brought down a whole fleet of Fire Nation airships. He didn’t need to be coddled like this, not when he was already fourteen. This was childish, and unmanly and… warm. Dad was very warm. 

Well. If he was already here he might as well enjoy it. 

Sokka propped his chin down on Dad's shoulder, tightening his arms around his neck. Dad made a pleased hum, the sound reverberating through his chest and into Sokka’s.   
  


“Which way?” Dad said as they entered the courtyard, sun bright on their faces and the smell of rose filling the air. 

“Uh,” Sokka said. “North,” he decided. That would keep them away from the hall where the negotiations were taking place. This was still kind of embarrassing, and maybe— maybe he also didn’t want anyone to interrupt this time he had with Dad. 

They moved that direction steadily, the gurgling from the fountains and the quacking of the turtle ducks the only sound. The gentle afternoon light streamed over them, casting everything in a dewy glow. Sokka could feel himself relaxing against the steady loping pace, Dad's shoulder soft and warm against his cheek. He inhaled the smell of soap and a faint woodsy musk. A light breeze swept through the courtyard, tickling his neck, and maybe this was what peacetime was supposed to feel like. He wouldn’t know. Neither would Dad, actually. 

“How come you’re here?” Sokka asked, a sudden thought striking him.

“A little hurtful, I will admit. Plenty of people would be glad to have my company, if you really hate it that much—“ 

“You’re hilarious,” Sokka said, unimpressed. “I meant, shouldn’t you also be at the diplomat meeting?”

“Oh. That.” He made a face, and Sokka buried his grin in his shoulder. Dad’s hatred of those meetings was well known, and it was something Katara never failed to poke fun at him for. Being excluded from them while Sokka’s leg healed had smarted, like even after risking his life to end the war he was still being treated like a kid. The fact that Dad actively avoided them made him feel slightly better about the whole thing. “Bato said he’d handle it for today,” Dad said. “He’ll probably give me an accurate summary later.”

“Probably?”

“Sometimes,” Dad said sagely. “When your second in command is also your best friend, they put in fun little additions to their reports because they think it’s funny when you believe them.” 

Sokka grinned. “So why don’t you just stop believing him?” he suggested. 

Dad huffed. “He’s a very good liar,” he said and Sokka laughed. He saw from the corner of his eye the side of Dad’s mouth twitching up. 

“Where are you going?” Sokka asked then, because Dad was moving past the courtyard into the grassy outcropping beyond it. Dad's only response was to keep moving so Sokka huffed, burrowing his head further into the crook of his neck. 

He dozed slightly. The slight rocking from Dad’s pace made him sleepy and, well… truth be told he hadn’t been sleeping all too well lately anyways. 

He didn’t know how much time passed before he woke, but when his eyes drifted open the sun was a little lower in the sky and they were in the middle of the most beautiful garden Sokka had ever seen. 

“Woah,” Sokka said, rubbing his fist over his eyes. There were blooming flowers bursting with color and hedges spreading as far as he could see, intricately trimmed arches splitting the sections up. This area was less carefully crafted than the courtyard; there were no fountains or cobblestone paths, only soft soil, vibrant flowers and willowy trees which provided a sense of privacy. He could hear the chirping of the birds over the trees, and the sweet smell of lavender and rose permeated throughout the gardens. 

“I didn’t know this was here,” Sokka said, blinking and tightening his arms around Dads shoulders. 

“Neither did I,” Dad said, still moving forward. “Until two minutes ago.”

Being out in the open without the palace walls closing in on him was nice. He didn’t admit it to his friends, but staying at the palace made him nervous. It was too stifling, and though Zuko was trying to redecorate there were still busts and portraits of the former Fire Lord in almost every room, watching him with his cold dead eyes. Sokka wondered if the Fire Lord had walked these gardens. If he had wandered through them while absently wondering if he should order a raid on another defenseless village that day. 

“Do you want to sit?” Dad asked, nodding to a bench that Sokka's eyes had initially passed over, it being so entwined with various vines and plants. 

“What, you getting tired old man?”

“I could just leave you here,” Dad mused. “Who knows how long it would take someone to find you, all the way out here. Maybe then I could finally get some peace.”

“But then you’d only have Katara,” Sokka pointed out. “And your headaches would only go up from there.” Dad snorted. 

They made their way to the bench, Dad depositing him gently on top so as to not jostle his leg. “What do you think?” Dad asked, nodding. 

“Eh.” Sokka shrugged. “I’ve seen better.”

“My son, the world wide traveler.”

“You’re one to talk.”

“We spent most of our time on beaches.” Dad relaxed further into the bench, tipping his head back and eyes sliding shut. “Or on board the ship. I had a beautiful view of my four by five quarters. By the stories you and your sister have told me, it sounds like you’ve seen practically every corner of the world.”

“Just about. We may have missed an air temple here or there.”

“What was it like?”

Sokka was silent for a moment, rubbing his fingers over the cloth on his knee. “Breathtaking,” he said finally. “Up on Appa, it’s like you can see the whole world spread out in front of you. Easy to feel small, up there.”

He could remember like it was yesterday that first burst of wind against his face and the terror that he might fall, of the world shrinking down below him with only Katara beside him anchoring him in place. He had felt that thrill only once again, on the train rushing to Ba Sing Se watching the sprawling city reveal itself underneath him. 

“I can imagine,” Dad said, shifting his head to look at him. 

“You know something, though?” Sokka said after a moment. “I missed home way more than I thought I would. Not all the time, just… everything was so strange. Even in the Northern Water Tribe, the way they dressed and the stuff they put on their sea prunes, eugh. Which reminds me by the way.” He turned, poking Dad in the shoulder accusationally. “You never told us Gran Gran was from the North!”

“It never came up,” Dad said, looking amused. 

“Does this mean I’m a quarter north?” Sokka said, brows furrowing. “Does this mean you’re _half_ north?”

“I don’t think so. It’s not your blood that makes you who you are, it’s your shared history and culture. We’ve never followed their customs, I don’t see why we would start now.”

“Yeah, well, heads up because there’s about to be a mega load of North banging on our door. On a scale of one to ten, how excited are you about your new step dad?”

Dad grimaced, rubbing his hand over his mouth. “Oh, gross. Please don’t call him that.” Sokka cackled, leaning forward and clutching his stomach. “I’m serious,” Dad said irritably. 

“Sorry,” Sokka gasped, wiping at his eyes. “I’m sorry, it’s just— your _face.”_ A peal of laughter escaped him again. Dad had just looked so horrified, was the thing. And yeah, so it was a little funny thinking of his proud, commanding father icked out at the thought of his mom getting remarried. 

“For spirits sake,” Dad sighed, but his mouth twitched up. 

Sokka sighed, smile still resting on the corners of his mouth. He leaned back a little, trying to get comfortable but it jerked at his leg and he flinched, grinding his teeth. 

“You do that a lot, you know,” Dad observed. It took him a minute to respond, trying to breathe through the pain. 

“Do what?” he asked, and he was proud of the way his voice didn’t waver. 

“I think you know.”

“Yeah, well,” Sokka said, because he did not want to be having this conversation, even if it was with Dad. Maybe even especially with Dad. 

“You’ve been spending a lot of time with your friends, lately,” Dad said, abruptly switching tracks. 

“Is that a problem?” Sokka asked, and he didn’t mean for his voice to come out like that, all hard and defensive.

“No. I’m just wondering if they know you haven’t been sleeping at all.”

“How did you know that?” Sokka snapped, but even before the words finished leaving his mouth he saw his mistake. Dad hadn’t known, not for certain. Until Sokka had told him. He dug his nails into his palms, anger a coiling thing in his chest.

“Nightmares?” Dad asked, gentle. 

“I’m sleeping fine,” he bit out, tasting the lie in the back of his throat. “I’m just— I’m fine, okay? So you can stop now.”

“Okay,” Dad said. “I didn’t mean to overstep.” His eyes were grave, and Sokka felt a sudden stab of regret. He slumped forward, suddenly exhausted. He rubbed at his eyes, lump in his throat. 

“I suck at this,” Sokka said finally, helplessly. The anger in his chest was dissolving into something else, all of it tangling into a snarl in his chest that he didn’t want to look at too closely. 

“I’m sorry,” Dad said quietly. “I'm sorry that I left, and you felt like you had to do it all alone. It shouldn't be hard for you to be a kid. It shouldn't be hard for you to know how to be taken care of.”

“I don't blame you,” Sokka said, throat dry. If he said it enough times it might sound true. “You had to go.” That, at least, he believed. 

“My point is, it’s not your fault. I should've been there and I wasn't, and you did what you had to to survive.” He looked at Sokka finally, voice even. “That doesn't mean I'm going to stop trying though.”

Sokka looked down, away from Dad’s gaze. He rubbed his fingers across the cloth of his trousers, studying the rough blue material. It felt grounding, and steady, so he did it again. 

“I don't— it's _really_ not that big of a deal,” he said. He pulled the sleeve of his shirt over his hand, bunching the cloth in his fist. “Really, I—” Sokka cut off. 

His eyes felt tight and itchy, the past few weeks of little to no sleep catching up to him. There was a tight ball forming in his stomach, growing as the images which had been running through his nightmares showed themselves again. He could practically run through the beats by now— the boom of the explosion, the panicked throw of his sword, a hand clutched in his. 

“Sokka,” Dad said, soft. It was interesting the things you forgot, being away from home for so long, surrounded by people from all corners of the world. Things like the way his parents had pronounced his name, a soft sibilant _s_ and a rounded _o_. He had thought, on that airship, that he would never have the chance to hear it again. He sighed.

“Yeah,” Sokka said. “I haven’t been sleeping a lot. At all. I just… before Suki came. I could feel my hand slipping. I wasn’t holding tight enough, and—” he swallowed, eyes burning. “Toph trusted me,” he croaked. “She trusted me completely and I let her down and I thought we were going to die, I knew we were—“ He was startled to hear a sudden dry sob, even more startled when he realized it came from him. Suddenly there were arms tugging him against a chest, enfolding him in an embrace. 

“Sokka, sweetheart,” Dad said. Sokka shook against him, shuddering breaths caught against Dad's shirt. This wasn’t right. He wasn’t supposed to do this, he was supposed to be the strong one, the one to hold it together for the rest of them. But—

But he kept waking up to the sound of bone cracking under him, so much louder than he thought it would be, and knowing, knowing with an unshakeable certainty that he would no longer be alive in the next few seconds. That his little sister’s life was in his hands and he wasn’t going to be able to save her. And Dad’s chest was solid and warm against his cheek, and maybe he could just— stay here. For a bit. Just until he could stop shaking, and he could breathe again. 

“How did you know?” Sokka whispered. “I didn’t— I didn’t tell _anyone.”_

“You're my kid. It's my job to know.” Dad was stroking his hand over Sokka’s hair, fingers brushing over the fuzzy hair on the sides of his head. “Of course I was paying attention.” That, more than anything made the sobs burst out of him, violent and racking his whole body with the force of it. 

Dad was murmuring soothingly in his ear, a deep rumble that he felt more than heard. Sokka couldn’t quite make out what he was saying— his ear was pressed against Dad’s chest, and he was shuddering too much to pay too close attention anyway— but he caught snatches of words. Phrases from poems, lullabies he recognized from his childhood, even what sounded like a mission report. 

It wasn’t like it was anything new. Sokka was no stranger to nightmares. It was kind of a byproduct of the whole, being on the run while being chased around the world by a homicidal maniac thing. And maybe, sometimes of the stuff that happened before that, too. He had always just— pushed it down. It didn’t matter. Not in the long run, not in the way Katara and Aang mattered. 

He could still remember his mother kneeling down in front of him, her voice as she told him that it was his job to protect Katara. Her face he could no longer remember but her voice— that was as clear in his mind as if she had just stepped out the door a second ago, calling out to him from beyond his sight. He had looked at Katara, right after the men had left when the camp seemed so much quieter than normal, and known that he would do anything to keep his mother's promise. 

He was starting to realize now, that in his need to look out for her, and later Aang, he might have missed a couple things about himself. And Dad was holding him close in the cradle of his arms, and maybe it should have been too little too late, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He rested his forehead against Dad's chest and let it all come out, all the fear and uncertainty and guilt he had picked up somewhere along the way escaping in streams out the corners of his eyes and down his cheeks.

They stayed like that for a long time, until his hiccuping sobs turned to silent tears and his head felt stuffy and aching. Heavy eyes drifted down without his permission, and he pulled back before he could fall asleep, wiping at his face and swallowing. It felt like he had cried for hours, and he might have, too— the sun was dipping below the horizon now, bullfrogs croaking in the distance.

“You wanna head back, now?” Dad asked gently. “You look like you could use some sleep.”

“Yeah, well, you're not looking so great yourself,” Sokka rasped. 

Dad huffed out a laugh. “I guess we could both use some rest,” he conceded. “You ready?” he held his hand out. 

Sokka looked at it. He thought about ships sailing away from a shore, growing smaller and smaller as he watched with his boomerang clenched tightly in his hand. Thought about flying, Katara’s hand tightly clasped in his and the terror of falling. Thought about desperate fingers slipping out of his hand and maybe, maybe when he held this hand it wouldn’t disappear like nothing. 

He reached out, and took it. 

**Author's Note:**

> Like and comment below if you liked it :)


End file.
